Through the Eyes of Heroes : Prophecies
by marintha
Summary: View marintha's profile for news. In depth look at the GW: Prophecies plot. The story will be explained as though you've never played GW, so anyone can read this and understand. My first story, please be as critical as possible.
1. Prologue

A.N.: Ok, this is my very first fan fiction. Evah. Please comment, good and bad and even just ugly criticism is nice, anything to make this the best it can be! This fanfic is going to be made in such a way that even if you HAVEN'T playing guild wars, you should understand most of it. If you have played GW, you'll probably spend the whole time "I remember that!" etc etc. Please enjoy! (sorry the prologue's so short, chapter one will be up soon)

Disclaimer: _I **do not** own the rights to Guild Wars or its main plot characters._ I have made a few characters up and thrown them in as the mains of this story though, and they are mine. I do use a lot of quotes from the game to keep it on track, so I can't cite them all. Just be aware they are there.

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The last day dawns on the kingdom of Ascalon. It arrives with no fanfare, no tolling of alarms. Those who will remember will speak fondly of the warm morning breeze. People carry on with their daily lives, unaware that in a short while everything they have ever known will come to an end.

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High atop the great Wall that surrounded and protected Ascalon, King Adelburn looked down at the battle that was roiling below. It was nothing serious, a dozen Charr raiders trying once again to breach the Wall. His men were easily driving the large, furred beasts across the plain, marching quickly after them in perfect formation, but still something troubled the old king.

"Scribe!" he called, whirling away from the rout, the royal insignia on his red cape flashing as it swirled out behind him.

"Yes, my lord?" A young man stepped forward, thumping a fist to his chest in a sharp salute.

Adelburn sized the man up, more out of military habit than any sign of irresponsibility. He then gestured the scribe to his side, turning back to view the battle.

"These Charr are relentless," he began, seizing the stone before him in still-strong gauntleted fists, "but we shall hold the Wall at all costs. Take this message to Sir Tydus of the Academy; go forth and recruit the strongest, the smartest. Bring to me the bravest in all Ascalon. Find me the heroes who will lead our kingdom to glory!"

"Yes, my lord!" the scribe cried, executing another quick salute before pelting across the Wall on his errand.

Adelburn continued to stare out over the wall. He was an old man now, in his sixty-first year in fact, and no longer the young, battle-ready soldier who had been elected to the position. And yet… and yet he would not sit back and watch his kingdom be overrun by furred abominations _or _those power hungry guilds. His silver brows furrowed anxiously.

He would protect his homeland… at any cost.


	2. The Warrior

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Guild Wars.

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Jerric Sohrael laid the hammer wearily at his side and stretched, twisting first one way then the other in an attempt to relieve the cramping he felt in his lower back and shoulders. He felt as though he'd been working all day, but a quick glance at the sun refuted his body's claim. He was finally finished though, and he would bet his best shield that no more rain water would find its way through _that_ roof!

Gathering up his hammer, a bucket of leftover nails and shingles, and his discarded tunic, the young man skittered over, and down, a crude wooden ladder leaning against the little house. Dropping to the ground below, he released a sigh of relief. The cool shade of the building couldn't negate the muggy heat of the river valley, but it did keep the sun from blasting his bared skin further.

Using his tunic to mop at the sweat running into his eyes, Jerric walked to the front of the house where the owner was busy dozing in a sturdy rocking chair. Despite Jerric's care in setting the tools on the wooden porch, some sound alerted the old man and his head popped up from his chest with a slight creak.

"Oh, you're done already now?" he wheezed, blinking rapidly as his eyes refocused in the noon-day sunlight.

"Yes sir. It should be much better now."

The old man chuckled softly. "We can always trust you academy students to get a job done quickly, _and_ without botching it up."

Jerric nodded absently, grinning as the old man then launched into a babbling monologue of how today's youth was made up of "a bunch of fumble fingered bumblers" and it was only thanks to the Academy any of them "could tell their right ear from a Skale's elbow". When a lapse in the man's talk made it courteous, Jerric tugged his threadbare grey tunic over his head, shaking his thick brown hair out as it caught on the cloth.

He'd been out here for nearly a week now, helping the farmers and villagers of the countryside with various odd jobs; chasing down escaped pigs, weeding out wurm infestations, rogue bulls that needed taking care of, a missing pet moa bird that had somehow landed in some dark ritual… no matter the problem, everyone wanted the academy's help.

Though, he had to admit, these domestic tasks were better than sitting in the academy twiddling his thumbs while his country was grinded up between the guild wars and the occasional Charr raid group. At least out here he could convince himself that he was helping.

A light tap on his arm brought his mental chafing up short.

"Looks like someone's coming up fast, boy." The old farmer explained, pointing down the road to where a single runner was moving towards them, his heels kicking up dust with each stride.

Stifling his curiosity, Jerric jogged off to meet the running man partway. When he noticed Jerric's approach, the runner slowed to a brisk walk, pressing at a stitch in his side.

"Jerric?" the man gasped, rubbing wearily at his side. Jerric nodded and the man sighed in relief, graciously accepting Jerric's supporting shoulder back to the porch. The old farmer was waiting there with a small mug of water, which the runner gulped gratefully.

"Now, why are you running up here so hard anyway?" Jerric said when the man seemed more himself and had his breath back.

"Devona sent me to find you; she said you might be around Old Mack's farm." The runner nodded to the old farmer genially. "She's down by the old mill; she says that there's a Grawl clan gathering."

"And she wants me there in case they're massing for a reason?" Jerric guessed, picking up his folded chain mail and waiting for the runner's answer.

"Yes, that's it."

"Alright, I'll go now then." He quickly dragged the thick chain mail over his head and clipped his belt and weapon harness across his waist and shoulder. Slinging his battle axe into its harness and hooking his wooden buckler over the top of it, he bowed a quick farewell to the old farmer and the runner.

Old Mack and the runner watched Jerric disappear rapidly down the road. The old farmer whistled appreciatively.

"Gonna try to run all that way in mail, is he?" he breathed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Those Academy students these days!"

The runner, sitting beside him massaging his quivering calves, simply laughed in agreement.

Those Academy students, indeed!

---

Jerric ran steadily along the dirt road, his long-legged strides eating away at the three mile distance to the mill. With each step, his axe and buckler clanked against his back and his chain mail chinked and rustled, until the mixture of sounds had relaxed his mind into the simple pattern of run, breath, run.

Within a few minutes of running past the small homes and plots of lands of the village, Jerric found Devona standing beside the slow-flowing river and the even slower turning mill-wheel.

"Hm?" The blonde warrior turned away from the river to see him. "Oh, Jerric, you made very good time getting here." She complimented, hefting her weighty war hammer, her weapon of choice, up to her shoulder.

"The man you sent mentioned something about a Grawl clan?" he said, his hands resting on the back of his neck in an attempt to let more air into his heaving lungs.

"Yes," Devona gestured across the river toward the beginnings of a thick forest. "They're in there. The villagers noticed a few of them wandering around and now they've been massing for the last few hours.

Jerric frowned and dropped his arms to his sides. "Surely Grawl wouldn't try attacking a human settlement."

Devona's hand shifted up her hammer haft restlessly, revealing her own concerns. "Not normally, they're much better at ambushing lone merchants and travelers but there's no question that they're massing in those woods for _some_ reason."

Jerric rubbed the back of his neck, looking around at the wide spread farming village. A fight here could easily endanger any villagers, especially if the cowardly Grawl had a choice between two trained fighters and an unarmed passerby.

"My plan at this point," Devona said, calling his attention back to her, "if they do attack, is to keep them past the bridge, on the other side of the river. That way we can bottleneck if they get too aggressive." She emphasized her words with quick hand gestures, outlaying the idea.

Jerric turned back to peer at the bridge in question. Solid stone with wooden planking, it looked narrow enough to make the plan work.

"Well, what do you think?"

He glanced down at her in surprise, unsure how to answer the older warrior. Quickly he decided on truth. "It seems easy enough between the two of us, Grawl aren't so very dangerous."

"Finally!" Devona cried, thumping his back and making his heart leap into his throat in shock. "All the time you've been out here you've been acting as if you are holding something back, like you're afraid to make a mistake."

When Devona moved off to the bridge, Jerric hung back to think over her words. He _had_ been afraid to make a mistake. This patrol out here was his last test before he graduated from the Academy. If he displeased Devona somehow, she could very easily send him home with a letter to Sir Tydus, and since the young woman was widely known as a warrior as great as her father had been, her opinion would influence Tydus' choice very much.

With a rueful grin, Jerric realized his cautiousness had been working against him. Feeling somewhat more at ease, he quickly followed Devona.

They agreed to wait until the Grawl showed any sign of attacking. Better to have the stupid things come to them than to bumble through the trees and straight into any traps they'd laid out. Or so Devona said.

As it turned out, the two warriors didn't have long to wait.

The charge was sudden and only their preparations kept the pair from being swamped at the outright. Seven purple-gray skinned Grawl burst from the cover of the trees, howling and wooping wildly. The matted white fur on their upper shoulders and ape-like muzzles stood up aggressively, giving the diminutive creatures an illusion of a much larger size. Two of them wore intricate, gaudy headdresses of feathers and bone, marking them as shamans.

The group rushed towards the bridge, the claws of their four-toed feet digging into the soft loam and boosting their forward momentum. Unfortunately for them, Devona and Jerric stood abreast on the worn timbers of the bridge.

Waiting.

The first Grawl realized its mistake too late, frantically backpedaling even as Jerric's axe swung downward toward its chest and bit deeply. Kicking the quickly dying thing off his blade, Jerric saw Devona finish off her own adversary with a skull-blasting chop of her hammer. He couldn't help but cringe as bone crumpled under the blow. Not a pretty sight, but effective.

The five remaining Grawl were a bit more prepared, the three melee fighters arranging themselves in front of their more vulnerable shaman spell casters.

Devona broke left, Jerric right, each engaging one of the melee Grawl. Jerric arced his battle axe in a sweep for the thing's neck, but the creature parried the blade away with its own rusted sword. Before Jerric could even get his axe in line for another try, the third melee Grawl had joined its companion against him.

Spinning his axe about him, the young man forced the Grawl back a pace, then two, and advanced. The first Grawl managed to dodge his first blow, but the second was not so lucky. Jerric's sharpened axe plunged into the creature's shoulder, gouging into the fur and skin. The Grawl didn't react! Instead, the beast swung its sword out, seeking the man's belly.

Jerric spun away from the unexpected counter, watching the Grawl's shoulder. Yes, there! No blood came from the Grawl's wound, and even as he watched the skin was pulling itself back together over the exposed bones.

"Devona! The shamans!" He cried, wading back into the fight.

Luckily, Devona had come to the same conclusion and was already working her own Grawl around towards the shamans. When she felt close enough, a quick bash knocked the club-wielding Grawl to its back. Lifting her heavy hammer over one shoulder, she cocked her arm, aimed, and let loose at the nearest shaman.

Seeing the missile, the poor beast tried frantically to cast a shielding spell, but the spell was interrupted in the most effective way possible.

It's rather difficult to concentrate when your lungs have been impaled on shattered ribs, you see.

The remaining shaman took one look at its downed companion and took to its heels, leaving the last two Grawl to Jerric's axe.

The two ugly things seized on pure desperation as their only ally. Syncing their attacks, they hammered in on Jerric's shield and whirling axe. The one with a club came in high, bouncing off his shield with a dull clunk. Taking advantage of the human's awkward position, the sword-wielding Grawl arced in at his belly. At the last second, Jerric sucked in his gut and stuck out his rump, but still felt the iron blade graze his chain mail.

An instant later Devona was at his side, and the Grawl found themselves outmatched. Devona whirled her hammer at their heads, making them duck, while Jerric went on one knee beside her, his axe finding the off-balanced Grawl's left lung. Another swipe of Devona's iron hammer caught the second Grawl in the chin, launching him painfully through the air to land in the dirt a good three feet away.

"The other shaman got away." Jerric noted, sighing disgustedly. Carefully he prodded at the one shaman corpse with his toe. They would have to drag the corpses down to the valley later, before they rotted. The hordes of giant scorpion-like Carrion Devourers would make short work of the clean-up.

"Not yet he hasn't."

Jerric grinned, looking up at her. "We're going after it then?"

"Of course!" Devona snorted, swinging her hammer up to her shoulder, also grinning.

Jerric slung his axe and shield into their harness and then the two were off, pelting down the forest lane in the direction the Grawl had taken.

Despite their prowess in combat and spell casting, Grawl were utterly incapable of stealth. Following their target was as simple as looking for the deep footprints gouged into the soft earth. The stupid creature had even gone in an even, straight line. Jerric almost found himself feeling sorry for the poor beast.

Almost.

Within a few minutes of dodging trees, leaping fallen trunks and jogging through the forest, they were catching up to the shaman. Anxious cries mixed with the crashing sound of it bumbling through the brush, leading the two warriors to him like a bonfire in the lightless Underworld.

Alerted by a slight change in the tone of its cries, Devona threw her hand in front of Jerric, stopping him. The Grawl had found something, or someone, and the two could still hear its elated yipping and growling.

They were cautious now, creeping up toward the noise, senses strained to the snapping-point_. Why had the Grawl stopped?_

Eventually, they reached the edge of a small clearing. Devona dropped to her belly, Jerric following as quietly as possible, and wormed under the thick brush. What the two saw on the other side was not reassuring.

There was the Grawl, stomping its feet in apparent rage, barking its agitation, and beside him, seemingly uninterested in its whining…

"Charr!" Devona breathed into Jerric's ear, shock and anger weaved into that small sound, confirming his own fears.

He had never actually seen a Charr except in pictures, they never came this far south of the Wall. The beast was large, taller than even him, built like a very large, very vicious dog that had found a way to stand on its hind legs. Thick, brown and yellow fur covered its muscular body, dyed a bright green in streaks. He faintly remembered something from one of the Academy books about that;

_The stronger of the Charr dye their fur to show their superiority. The dye acts almost as a badge of honor among them, awarded for brute strength and cunning._

Jerric shivered but refused to take his eyes off the beast. It seemed to be saying something now, growling at the Grawl in some guttural form of language. The Grawl paused, pointed up at the Charr and yipped something like a command.

The Charr didn't like that. One large clawed paw reached out and caught the Grawl about the throat. A swift shake broke the creature's neck with a resounding _crack_. The Charr tossed the corpse away with something that could be disgust, then turned and disappeared into the trees.

Unlike the Grawl, the Charr knew the meaning of stealth.

Once the two humans were sure the Charr was gone, Devona slipped from her hiding spot and moved to the Grawl Shaman. Jerric followed, staring toward where he had last seen the Charr.

"It doesn't make sense," Devona started. "Charr and Grawl… working together? Are the Charr trying to hide something? How did he get this far South anyway?" She dropped her hammer to her side, staring accusingly at the Grawl.

Watching her, Jerric felt a cold fingers clutch at his chest. He had lived in Ascalon for all his 19 years of life, and he couldn't remember any Charr _ever _getting across the Wall, let alone South of it.

What were they planning? And more important, could they find out in time to stop it?


	3. The Monk

A.N.: Ugh, I'm soooo sorry this took so long to update. I had this whole chapter AND the next two typed up and ready to go, then my flash drive decided to go all corrupt on me and delete everything I had. So, here we are. The re-written chapter. x.x 

Enjoy! (And please review, I'm still a learning writer. Feedback is good! Even the bad kind!)

Oh, and of course, _I do **NOT **own the rights to Guild Wars_.

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_Far beneath the village of Ashford, deep in the lightless depths of the catacombs, amidst the dank smell of death and decay, another academy student worked towards her own graduation._

"Alright, almost have it." Ayla Torinan winced as her words echoed wildly in the dark hall.

"It shouldn't be this hard to light a candle." Sighed the young man standing beside her.

"Well, it would be a lot easier if you could hold the torch STILL Paulus!" The young woman cried, exasperated. Several curls of red hair had escaped her braid, and their continuous interference was only adding to her aggravation.

"Sorry." Paulus mumbled, steadying the torch.

"There! Finally." Lifting the small wax candle, Ayla set it carefully onto the thin, tall brazier. As soon as it touched the enchanted ironwork the feeble flame stabilized and flared until it lit the entire alcove.

"Good, now how many more of these braziers do we have to find?" Paulus asked, lifting the torch a little higher.

Ayla opened the small pouch at her waist and rummaged for a moment. "I only have one more candle."

"Fine. One more silly candle and I can find my artifact!" The young monk planned, tugging a roll of parchment from his belt and brandishing it at her.

"Not so loud!" Ayla hissed, closing her pouch. "We'll find your artifact, _if _it's actually there and _if _your screaming doesn't wake up a nightmare."

Paulus bit his lips together, reminded of where they were. When he replied it was in a barely-audible whisper.

"Sorry. Are you ready to continue?" He offered her his free hand. Almost laughing at his duplicity, Ayla picked up her staff from where she'd left it on the ground and accepted his hand. Then the two left the slightly raised, dry alcove to splash into the viscous, disease-ridden waters that marked this part of the catacombs.

As the water closed about them, Paulus felt a slight breeze ruffle his pale hair. Glancing back, he was reassured by the sight of Ayla, eyes partly closed in concentration, murmured quiet prayers of healing, drawing on that intangible connection between her and the goddess Dwayna.

Turning back to the fore, Paulus focused on his own job. He trusted the Ayla's prayers to protect them from any water-borne plague, despite her young appearance, but her comment on nightmares had not been pure conjecture.

The catacombs were the resting place of hundreds of corporeal bodies and their souls. Unfortunately, where there are dead there are those who tend to use them. Necromancers were often sneaking in to use the bodies in their unholy harvests, but the main problem was the ones not considerate enough to clean up. The result was an ever-growing population of undead creatures.

Holding his carefully-copied records in his teeth, the torch in one hand and guiding Ayla with the other, Paulus led the two deeper in the black underground.

---

"Ayla, there's the last one!" Paulus' hoarse whisper alerted her, breaking through her concentration.

"What?" Coming out of her spell left her a bit dazed. She shook her head wearily to clear it. "Last wha- Oh! Where?"

Paulus all but dragged her to the dry ground near the brazier, before the last bit of her spell dissipated. When they reached the top, Ayla stopped suddenly, pulling him up short.

"I think I heard something." She whispered in reply to his look, releasing his hand. The two froze; listening, then Paulus handed the torch to Ayla and moved in front of her defensively. Very slowly, in an attempt to lessen the sound of scraping metal, he drew his short sword.

Now he could hear the slight swish of water that had alerted his companion.

"It sounds like there's only one." He breathed, turning to see if she agreed. A slight hesitation as she listened a moment longer, then a quick nod.

"But one what?" she whispered to his back. She held the torch high, not trying to conceal it. Any light, no matter how small, would act as a spotlight in this pitch dark world. The thing around the corner had probably already seen the light and come to investigate the phenomenon. The light could in fact be helpful, if it could keep the denizen confused.

Finally the thing came into sight. Behind Paulus, Ayla bit back a gag.

"Cadaver." Paulus explained, flexing his sword arm slowly. Ayla could hear him starting some prayer, but couldn't look away from the gruesome thing at the corner.

It had once been human. A very long time ago. Beneath rusted armor, the torchlight reflected off long, white bones and a thin film of slime. A scum of decayed skin and clothes hung in strips from its body and even as she watched, some unidentifiable glob dropped from it to the water with a slight 'sploosh'.

"Why isn't it moving?" she whispered, unable to fathom how such a… a… _decrepit_ thing could be standing.

"It's been dead a long time; its brain is probably rotten. Without something or someone controlling them, cadavers aren't very intelligent." Paulus paused. "Dangerous though. Deadly in groups."

As if on cue, the cadaver turned toward them, its bare skull grinning in a macabre mimicry of living glee.

"Paulus…" Ayla warned unnecessarily as the other monk restarted his prayers. With a demented crackle of bone clacking on bare bone, the cadaver charged the two, rusted sword raised high.

Without thinking, Ayla stepped to Paulus' side, her staff lifted defensively in one hand. She couldn't smite the thing, offensive spells were anything but her forte, and she wasn't exactly a warrior. But spell casters were vulnerable in the middle of casting, and if Paulus didn't finish in time…

The skeleton was twenty feet away.

Ten feet.

Five.

"Paulus!"

The skeleton was touching the dry hummock of land when Paulus raised his sword abruptly. The blade flashed white, leaving a glaring afterimage in the humans' eyes.

"Balthazar!" A shock of white light leaped from the blade, connecting with the cadaver's chest. The grisly thing shivered and rocked, caught in the throes of the spell. Both monks could see the light as it dove deeper into the thing's body, shattering bone and metal as it went.

A last echo of a scream ripped from the remains of the thing's throat as the killing light spread to its limbs, scouring the arcane magic from its very bones!

Then, the cadaver froze, still grinning at the two humans. With a last clacking sigh, the thing began to crumple, bones toppling and splashing down into the murky waters, until all sign of the creature had disappeared into the depths.

After a moment, Ayla shuddered.

"Great gods, what spell _was_ that?" She demanded, still staring at the rippling waters.

"Well, bane signet. But…" Paulus coughed suddenly, turning back to the brazier.

"But?" Ayla pressed, putting her hands on her hips. "Paulus, please don't tell me you'd never even _tried _that spell!"

"Alright then, I won't." With that, he took the torch from her and pointed at her belt pouch. "Candle, please."

Ayla stared at him.

"Candle!" he insisted.

In the course of finding the candle and setting it on the brazier the young woman had calmed down enough to decide that strangling Paulus right then and there would _not_ be a very good idea.

But she promised herself that once they were out of these tombs, she would give the idea very serious consideration.

"Alright, there's the last one." The tiny candle flared into life, extending its illumination throughout that end of the hall.

Ayla sighed slightly. "I think the spirits can rest now. At least, that's what Munne said." She tilted her head at Paulus. "Now, where's this artifact of yours?"

A few minutes of skimming through his records, mumbling to himself, pacing, and "hm hm" -ing later, Paulus stopped still and suddenly burst out laughing.

Ayla shushed him quickly, unnerved by way the invisible walls and ceilings contorted his laughter. "What, what is it?"

Shaking his head in disbelief, Paulus knelt by the brazier.

"According to the records, the silly thing is right here!" He explained, procuring a set of digging tools from some secret pocket. "Just sit tight, and I'll have it out in no time."

Yet some more time passed as Ayla paced and Paulus scrabbled about in the loamy earth. Finally, the young man made some headway.

"I think this is it!"

Ayla scurried back to his side, her curiosity getting the better of her. As the torch's full light fell on the small pit he'd excavated it picked out a flash of blue.

"Yes! It's-"

"A pot." Ayla interrupted, unable to hide her disappointment.

Paulus looked up at her in shock. "It is _not_ a pot. It's a magical artifact from centuries in the past." Even as he spoke he alternately scraped away more dirt and glared up at her.

Ayla tilted her head slightly to one side. "Well… I'll admit it's a very _pretty _pot."

The young man sighed in disgust as he lifted the artifact out of the hole. "Pot…" he muttered to it. "Women!"

Ayla only laughed. "Well, whatever it is, let's get out of here. I want out of this place as soon as possible." She shuddered.

The long watery trek back through the catacombs was uneventful and, for the most part, silent. After about an hour, the two monks left the poisoned sludge for the slightly wider, drier main corridors leading to the outside world. Eventually, small signs like a fresh breeze of air and a change from the dreary black to a soft gray promised that they were close.

The two came abruptly into the surface world, blinking and rubbing at their eyes in the blinding noon sunlight.

When they had adjusted enough to extinguish the torch and look at their surroundings, they finally noticed the intricately tattooed, shaved head of the broad shouldered monk waiting on the steps.

"Mhenlo!" Ayla said, surprised by the older monk's proximity.

Turning at the sound of her voice, Mhenlo smiled and nodded to each of them. "Paulus, Ayla. I take it everything went well?"

Ayla grinned, pumping her fist cheerily. "Yes, we lit all of Munne's braziers and even found Paulus' po-"

"_Artifact._" Paulus cut in, looking indignantly at Ayla. Mhenlo couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the implied argument.

"Good. You've both done very well."

Ayla glowed at the compliment from her mentor. Mhenlo was known in Ashford Abbey as a bit of an introvert, kind but very soft spoken. Ayla had been living in the Abbey when Mhenlo had first arrived there from Cantha after completing his training under a 'Master Togo'. Since then, she'd looked up to the quiet man as something like a father figure, having never known her own.

"Now, though," Mhenlo was saying, "you both have something else to attend to." He handed each of them a till-now unnoticed, folded and sealed sheet of parchment.

Mystified, Ayla and Paulus popped the unmarked seals and skimmed the letters' contents.

Ayla looked up at Mhenlo, confused by what she'd read. "They want us to go to the academy," she glanced at Paulus and got a confirming nod. "But-"

"The letter says it's not about anything bad." Paulus pointed out, frowning.

"I would suggest," both monks turned to Mhenlo attentively, "that you answer your questions by going Ascalon City." Mhenlo bowed slightly, then turned and left them standing on the steps.

Ayla and Paulus turned to each other, unsure of the brief meeting's connotations and its abrupt ending.

"So…" Paulus trailed off, biting his lips together.

Ayla grinned slowly, savoring the idea. "Well, I say we follow Mhenlo's advice." When Paulus failed to respond, she tapped one bitten-down fingernail against the vase still in his arms, producing a slightly tinny echo.

Paulus jerked, pulling his find away from her. "Alright, alright!" He hugged the artifact protectively. "I'll put this in the Abbey and then we can go together.

Ayla's full throated laughter followed him across the grounds and within a few minutes the two were on the road toward Ascalon City.

And the Academy.

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A.N: Next chapter coming soon! (I hope)

And remember, reviews are absolutely, positively, wonderful! Even flames! Just... flames with a subject please, not just random "you suckages". Please?


	4. The Elementalist

Disclaimer: _I **do not** own the rights to Guild wars or its main plot and characters._

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__At the southeastern edge of the kingdom of Ascalon, high in the icy Shiverpeak Mountains, a clan of ice golems stirs. They are awakened by the reflected, flickering lights coming down from the mountain tower. Magical lights that draw the golems relentlessly from their slumber…_

---

Kara Ferrick sat on a small rock, the one bare patch amidst all the mountain snow. Her thick fur cloak was drawn tightly about her as she tried to ignore the biting cold. The frantic bobbing and shuddering of her magically suspended focus wasn't helping very much, though a random poke at the silly thing now and again kept it from tangling in her thick, black hair.

"Kara!" The young woman leaped to her feet at her name.

"Yes, Aziure, ma'am?" she squeaked, fending off her wildly bobbing focus with one hand.

Aziure, the mountain elementalist, smiled at her pupil reassuringly. "Calm down, I just want you to try that spell you learned yesterday."

"Oh. Oh!" Kara bit her thumbnail nervously. "The warding one?"

"Yes, that's the one." Aziure shook her head in amused disbelief. Elementalist were known for their fiery natures, normally at least _somewhat_ sure of themselves, especially ones with as much potential as young Kara showed. When the girl had been sent to Aziure to train, she'd expected a self-centered hothead. Instead, she'd gotten Kara.

Moving slightly away from the tower itself, Kara paused to take a few deep, calming breaths. She had a bad habit of panicking, but was determined not to do so this time.

"Al-alright, I'll try it now." At Aziure's nod, Kara closed her eyes, falling into herself to begin the spell. A slight excess of magic lifted her off the ground as she concentrated, her focus burning off even more excess as it rose above her, glowing brightly.

Unlike holy magics, which were given to monks by the gods themselves, elementalist magic was guided by sheer force of will, strength of mind and, of course, the mighty Bloodstones. The four stones and their keystone held all the magic of Tyria separate so that no one man or woman could ever hold the powers of preservation, destruction, aggression and denial again. This had become necessary after the gods had first bestowed the gift of magic upon the world, and it had nearly led to the extinction of the thinking races of the lands.

Kara concentrated, using the lessons that had been drilled into her as a focal point in the wild rush of magical energy.

Finally, she released the pent up spell, felt it flow out from her body, dropping her back to the snow covered earth. As the spell spread out from her, magical lights danced, coming to stop in a circle perhaps teen feet out from her in all directions.

Aziure entered the magical field and dropped a congratulatory hand to the younger girl's shoulder. "Very nice. Perfectly done."

Kara smiled brilliantly at the praise and her focus echoed her thoughts, cavorting cheerily through the air.

The mountain elementalist smiled sadly. She would miss the girl when she finally graduated, but she could hardly keep her cooped up on this mountain top.

The sound of Kara saying her name pulled her from her reflections. The girl was pointing down the mountain path, to a man who was running towards them.

Kara started forward, but Aziure put a cautionary hand out to stop her.

"Wait."

As Kara glanced up at her mentor, Aziure stared hard at a stand of trees behind the running man. She hadn't imagined it, something… no, _several_ some things were moving slowly through the trees.

Following the elder elementalist's gaze, Kara caught sight of the approaching creatures and gasped faintly.

"Ice golems." Aziure explained, scanning the area. "They're slow, that man should be fine, but ice golems never march alone."

Kara bit her lip, eyes glued to the waving tree tops.

"What should we do?"

Aziure took a quick look at the girl, surprised by the determined look on her face. A slight smile tugged at her lips.

"First, we wait. As I said, ice golems are slow." Aziure grinned confidently. "They also don't like heat, if that gives you any ideas."

The man had reached them by now, slowing to a stop in front of them.

"Aziure and Kara?" He gasped, sketching a quick bow. Aziure smiled, amused at the man's priorities.

"I am Aziure, this is Kara." She replied. Beside them, Kara continued to watch the golems, though they were still mostly hidden in the trees.

"That's good." The man peeked over his shoulder at the angrily dancing treetops. "Uhm… shouldn't something be done about those?"

"We'll handle it." Aziure reassured the man, brushing past him and continuing down the path. "Kara?" she called over her shoulder.

"Oh!" The young elementalist looked at the man, then at Aziure's retreating figure, then back. "I'm sorry, coming Aziure!" She cried, rushing after her mentor.

Aziure stalked calmly toward the golems, more often on top of the snow than in it. Kara on the other hand, made a much less grand picture as she slogged through the calf deep ice, trying to keep up with Aziure and not panic at the same time.

When Aziure stopped in front of her, Kara barely managed to not topple into the older woman.

"We'll wait for them here." Her mentor explained, sparing a glance at the girl.

Kara looked down the path to where the golems were barely a dozen feet away and nodded. She didn't trust her voice at that moment as her throat felt tight and her tongue felt welded to the top of her mouth.

Beside her, Aziure floated into the air, whispering an invocation. As she released it, Kara recognized another type of ward spell. All the earth within the spell's range rumbled ominously beneath the snow, small pebbles bouncing and leaping through the ice. Kara shivered as the spell settled over her as well, making her skin tingle.

The ward would protect the duo from any spells the golems might cast, but it wouldn't last for long.

The first ranks of golems reached the spells outer edge, just ten feet from the humans. Picking a target, Kara felt her feet leave the ground as pure magical energy flowed into her veins.

Instantly, a slight shimmer appeared in the air above the golems, looking almost like a heat wave, despite the freezing cold. From that shimmer, small gobbets of fist-sized fire began to fall, raining down on the golems mercilessly. As each gobbet found a target, it left a hissing and steaming hole through the golems' icy bodies.

The spell finished, Kara fell back to the ground with a thump, just in time to see a fireball roar out over her head. The golems, already occupied with the firestorm, had no time to dodge this new spell. The fireball landed in the middle of the group, sending out a splash of fire, vaporizing the legs of the surrounding golems into so much hissing steam.

And still the firestorm rained down on their heads.

As the firestorm began to dwindle, a last flurry of magical flames mowed through the golems. Each fiery burst brought another golem tumbling down, icy bodies scraping, shattering and melting onto the newly exposed rock ground. As every golem staggered nearer, glassy arms reaching for the two women, it was met with yet another flare or fireball.

Finally, the last golem fell silently to the earth. Unable to even voice a last cry, its elemental body sank slowly into the ground.

Aziure moved wearily to where Kara lay on her back, collapsed to the dry earth in utter exhaustion.

A slight kick at her foot warned Kara of the older elementalist's presence.

"Think you'll live?" she queried, poking Kara again with her toe. A slight groan answered her.

"All right, up you come." Grabbing her apprentice by the arm, Aziure hauled the girl to her feet. As soon as she was up, Kara clutched her mentor's arm for support.

The two women made a slow, shuffling procession to the tower, Kara leaning tiredly against Aziure as she walked. They were met at the tower by the overly-grateful messenger.

Depositing Kara unceremoniously on the stoop, Aziure turned to the young man. "Well now, what were you running up my mountain for anyway?"

"Ah, oh! I hope I didn't lose it." The man grimaced worriedly and began a frantic search through various pockets in his jerkin and trousers. Smiling crookedly, Aziure folded her arms over her chest patiently.

"Aha, here we are!" The messenger held a small, neatly folded bit of parchment triumphantly. Aziure plucked it from his fingers and had it open before he could say anything else.

The mountain elementalist skimmed the letter and her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Oh…" she sighed, then smiled. "Kara, it's for you."

On the stoop, Kara struggled to a sitting position. "Me?" she squeaked, pointing a finger at herself in disbelief and mild panic. "But-, but I-"

"It's nothing bad." Aziure laughed, handing the message to the girl.

Kara read the letter quickly then blanched white as the snow around her.

"But, it's already past noon!" She wailed. "I'll never make it to Ascalon in time!"

Aziure disappeared into her tower and reappeared a moment later, holding an ornately carved blue wand. Pressing the wand into Kara's hands, she smiled.

"You had better get going then."

Kara froze, staring up at her mentor. "But- you'll be all alone again." She whispered, clutching the older woman's hands.

Aziure scoffed, managing to hide a slight sniffle at the girl's surprising concern. "About time too!" she blustered. "Now, go on. I'll be fine until you get back."

The young elementalist swallowed hard and managed a smile. Then she caught Aziure in a sudden, fierce hug, startling the mountain elementalist.

Before she could change her mind again, Kara released her friend and mentor and ran past her and the messenger, down the mountain.

Aziure stood silent a long moment, until she could no longer see Kara's flying black hair and cloak. Coughing to hide another sniffle, the woman turned to the messenger.

"So, would you like some hot soup before you leave?" she asked pleasantly, herding the man toward the tower entrance even before he'd agreed.

Knowing at least some of what the letter had signified, Aziure paused again at the door, looking out over her mountain. She would miss Kara, but she really hadn't expected the girl to stay forever. With a resigned sigh, she disappeared into the tower, the door closing behind her.

Kara was already partway down the mountain when she finally realized that the wand Aziure had handed to her was not her own. The gift and its implications of a much longer parting than Aziure had hinted brought tears to the young elementalist's eyes, but she bit them back sharply.

Aziure had never liked it when she'd cried.

* * *

A.N.: Sorry it took so long. Had a sharp bout of writer's obsessive compulsiveness for a while, certain parts just wouldn't come out right. But, I finished it and you'll all be glad to know that this is the last of the character development chapters. (Yaaaaayyyy, plot time!)

Please review, I'm still a new writer, feedback is lovely!


	5. The Letter

_To those academy students studying outside these walls:_

_This letter is not a transference of bad tidings. Quite the contrary. We at the academy request your collective presence as soon as you may find yourselves available. Hopefully this will be no later than twelve finger-widths past noon, on this day, the twenty-third day of the season of the Phoenix._

_We hope this letter finds you quickly and in good health._

_Sir Tydus_


	6. Party

Disclaimer: _I **do not** own the rights to Guild wars or its main plot and characters._

* * *

Twelve finger-widths past noon found the half-circle shaped courtyard of the Ascalon Academy filled with nearly two score excited trainees. The mad buzz of conversation echoed weirdly from the red stone walls encircling the area as each person speculated to their neighbor on what each' summons had meant. 

In the midst of the group, Ayla and Paulus made their own wild guesses on what could be happening, each new idea less likely than the last.

Somewhat apart from the main mass, Jerric leaned casually against the wall near the main gate of the Academy. Listening to all the bustle and ponderings, he couldn't help but smile faintly. He had a good idea why they were all here, but he knew better than to tell anyone beforehand. So, he sat back and contented himself by listening to the extravagant theories of those near him.

A sudden hush rippled out over the crowd, signaling that the meeting was starting. Jerric craned his neck until he could see Sir Tydus and Armin Saberlin exiting the large Academy building. The two veterans came to a stop on the broad stairs, surveying the group.

Before either of the two men could say anything though, one of the large gates to the Academy slid open with a loud, grating creak. For a moment nothing else happened, then a small head peeked around the wooden door.

"I-I-I'm so sorry I'm late," came a slightly muffled cry. "I didn't mean to interrupt!"

Curious about the intrusion, Ayla had weaved through to the back of the crowd, Paulus close behind her. One look at the girl in the doorway, nearly in tears from fright, had the monk walking to the gate without another thought.

"We hadn't started yet, come on in now." Clasping the young woman by the hand, Ayla pulled her back out into the crowd.

Still a little to one side of the gates, Jerric watched the exchange with slight amusement. The poor little black haired girl looked like she was going to faint.

As the young girl, Kara, finally calmed down enough to utter a hiccupy 'thank you', the rest of the students forgot the incident and turned back to Tydus and Armin.

Seeing that the latecomer had been taken care of, Tydus lifted his arms to draw full attention back to his companion and himself. When he deemed all eyes were forward, he bowed slightly to Armin, signaling him to take over.

Armin, a somewhat burly warrior who seemed much older than he was, surveyed the crowd for a long moment. Finally, just as the trainees began to feel uneasy under his commanding stare, he lifted one hand imperiously, unnecessarily demanding the crowd's attention.

"Students of Ascalon Academy," he began, his deep bass voice carrying easily across the silent yard and to even the very back of the crowd. "You have all been summoned here for a very important, and perhaps dangerous, event."

The people in the courtyard almost visibly leaned forward, holding their breath as Armin paused melodramatically, with-holding that one bit of information that so tantalized each man and woman present.

"But, before we elaborate –," an audible sigh ran through the group, making Armin pause. "As I was saying, before we explain a bowl will be passed through your ranks. In that bowl, each of you will find a number of small, folded pieces of parchment. Each of you will take _one_ paper, and only one. Do not open your paper until you are told."

Even before Armin finished, Tydus was moving down the steps to hand the filled bowl into the crowd. Another bout of conversation sprang up as the bowl was circulated and people chose their papers, some pausing indecisively as they tried to pick one that would be helpful, whatever they were, others reaching in blindly for the first paper they touched.

Within a few minutes, everyone had a slip of paper and the crowd was brought once more to silence.

"Now, everyone has a piece of parchment, correct?" Armin paused to let any dissenters respond. When none did, he continued, "Good, now," another melodramatic pause, "open them."

Unfolding her own paper, Ayla looked in utter confusion at a small, neatly written '8'. Looking around at her neighbors she saw more numbers unfolding, all followed by excited whispers.

"Erm, did you get a number too?" a small voice queried beside her.

Ayla held her paper up with a wry smile. "Eight, whatever that means." The young monk turned to Paulus inquiringly

Paulus shrugged at her look. "Twelve. Maybe everyone has a different number?"

Ayla started to nod, but Kara bit her lip worriedly.

"But, I got an eight too." The elementalist showed the two the offending number almost apologetically.

Ayla frowned, glancing at Paulus. "I wonder what happens now?" she mused, looking back up toward Tydus and Armin.

Near the back of the crowd, Jerric twirled his own paper about curiously. He didn't have the faintest clue about this part, nor what his own little '8' meant. Devona hadn't spoken to him about this new intrigue.

Before the growing questions could get out of hand, Armin raised a quieting hand.

"You'll have found a number written on each of your papers. That number will correspond with the numbers of two other papers. As there are thirty-six of you gathered here, there will be twelve groups of three people with the same number."

He paused to peer into the crowd a moment. "Now," his voice rang in crisp command, making the students straighten instinctively, "I want everyone to find their group and stand in ranks, ones to the fore, each rank three people abroad. Begin!"

The ensuing mad scramble made both Kara and Ayla a little dizzy. At Ayla's insistence, the two women managed to pull out of the press to gather their wits and wait for the furor to calm somewhat.

Having had the same idea, Jerric emerged from the group a moment later, just a few feet away from the two, rubbing his hair and staring into the near-brawl in disbelief.

On an impulse, Ayla started towards him. Seeing her new-found friend moving away from her, Kara trotted quickly after.

"Hello there," the low voice brought Jerric abruptly from his silent contemplations, "you wouldn't happen to have an eight scrawled on that paper, would you?"

The big warrior looked down at her in surprise. The first thing he saw was a shock of red curls and wide-set brown eyes in a homely, tanned face, staring up at him quizzically.

"Eight?" He shook his head sharply to clear it. "Yes actually, I think I do." He proffered his scrap of parchment.

His obvious sigh of relief when Ayla and Kara showed him their respective eights set both women to grinning sympathetically.

Jerric mirrored the grin, then bowed smoothly before the two. "My name is Jerric Sohrael." He introduced himself as he came out of the bow.

Taken aback by his action, Ayla held a hand out towards him self-consciously. "I'm Ayla Torinan, a monk from Ashford Abbey."

The big man clasped her hand warmly, still smiling.

Slightly behind Ayla, Kara straightened her robes about herself, summoning a little burst of courage before stepping around the taller woman.

Though, when Kara realized that Jerric towered over her by at least a good foot and a half, that little courage bubble nearly burst.

"I-I'm Kara Ferrick." She managed, sticking her hand out awkwardly, looking anywhere but up at the giant warrior.

Jerric clasped the smaller woman's hand as well, noting her pale, delicate features and silky black hair as he did so. "Pleased to meet you both." He assured them, glancing over his shoulder at the gradually calming crowd. "We'd best line up before they leave us behind."

And so, when the ranks finally settled enough that Armin could explain their further instructions, the three found themselves standing in line, eight ranks from the front. Jerric stood to the left, towering over all those around him without seeming to notice, then Ayla, somewhat shorter but still tall for her sex, and Kara held the rightmost position, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

"You thirty-six students have been training in this Academy for years," Armin began, pacing along the steps, all eyes following his every movement, "preparing yourselves in the hope that you may join the vanguard and defend our country."

"In recent years, our main martial concern was for the Guild Wars that have ravaged our homes. Now, though, with the Guild Wars dwindling to a halt, a new threat faces us, one that many of you have taken for granted."

The grizzled soldier paused, meeting each of his trainees' eyes in turn, drawing them further into the speech with that small connection. Despite the fact that everyone had heard this same speech, perhaps word for word, everyone in the courtyard listened avidly.

"The Charr." Armin explained. "For longer than many of you have been alive, the Charr have been nothing more than an annoyance. They cross our walls and kill a wayward farmer's family perhaps once every 3 months, usually less. We raid into their territory seeking vengeance. It has always been this way. But, that is changing."

A slight ripple of confusion hit the crowd of trainees. No one had heard this part in the speech, nor could anyone follow it to the startling conclusion that fell into that uneasy courtyard, like a whisper of Grenth, the god of the dead, himself.

"The Charr are massing in the north."

A hysterical wave of voices reacted to that one statement. The sudden tumultuous uproar nearly had the ranks falling back into a disordered congregation.

Kara turned sharply to her two new companions, white faced. "The Charr?" she squeaked, clutching at Ayla's sleeve. The young monk, surprised by the emotions inspired by merely a name, shrugged. She had never seen a Charr, only heard of them from books and her fellows in the Abbey.

Jerric was also shocked by the reaction, not at all what he had expected and hoped for. Having been with Devona when the evidence of the Charr massing had been found, he'd had forewarning of course, but he still hadn't expected _this_. Anger? Yes. Shock? Perhaps.

A wave of complete terror? Not at all.

Armin was shouting at the crowd now, demanding their silent attention. Some helpful elementalist in the front ranks sent up a handful of crackling lightning. The magical rumble silenced the crowd in an instant.

Armin Saberlin glared at everyone in general.

"Now then, as I was saying," he snapped into the silence. "The Charr are massing. We are unsure of their intentions, but while the great Wall still stands, those beasts will _never_ attack Ascalon successfully. No matter how many of the furry brutes throw themselves at us. Which brings us to why we are all here."

He was pacing again and once more all eyes were locked on him.

"Devona and another Academy student, Jerric Sohrael," Ayla and Kara swiveled instantly to look at their slightly embarrassed team mate, "discovered a Charr ranger _south_ of the Wall. This scout is suspected of driving neighboring clans of Grawl against the outer villages, namely Ashford."

A quiet wave of surprised murmurings met the conspiracy. Ayla couldn't help but shudder at the prospect of those two enemies uniting, and so soon after the Guild Wars had ended!

Armin let the noise die down before continuing.

"You have all been separated into teams, based on a completely random drawing of numbers. The purpose is that we need the best among you to hunt down this Charr ranger and eliminate him," Armin's hand swiped downward demonstratively, "before he can do anymore harm."

"The group to go will be decided through a series of battles, to take place in the Academy Arena. Match pair-ups will be determined by number. Losing teams will be disqualified from further participation in _this_ hunt." Armin explained, reassuring some people who, judging by the relieved sigh, had been afraid failure would mean complete expulsion from the Academy.

Sir Tydus stepped up then, lifting a large sheet of parchment over his head.

"The results of each match will be updated after each round and put on this notice. All contestants will be monitored by priests. Duels will be decided by who is able or unable to continue. Killing force will result in instant expulsion and arrest of that individual and, possibly, their team mates." Propping the large paper against the wall, Tydus turned back to Armin.

"First and second ranks, proceed to the Arena!"

As the first two teams trotted to the enclosed battle field, the remaining groups were released to spread out across the courtyard, discussing strategies, the unusual behavior of the Charr, or simply to sit back and wait.

Team eight settled on the grass near the steps, where they could keep an ear to Armin and an eye on the score sheet.

"So," Jerric began, rubbing his shoulders into the stone wall, "what sort of combat do you two prefer?" He smiled at the two as politely as he could, trying not to stare at the tangled ivy tattoos that covered Ayla's tanned arms, or at the magically suspended focus bobbing about Kara's ears.

"I can't speak for Kara," Ayla said, nodding slight at the elementalist, "but I'm mainly defensive. Healing and protection," she clarified.

Jerric couldn't help being impressed by the undercurrent of proud aggression in her voice. He turned to Kara questioningly.

"You are an elementalist, right?"

Kara nodded quickly, sending her focus on a wild ride. "Yes, I can cast defensive spells and offensive spells, but I don't do very well up close," she blurted, her tongue tripping nervously.

Ayla smiled encouragingly at the girl, and Kara relaxed slightly.

"Well, as you can guess, I'm a plain old warrior." Jerric said, rubbing a hand through his dark hair sheepishly.

Ayla smiled widely at the show of modesty and Kara actually let out a soft giggle.

"Plain old warrior my sandals." The young monk snorted. "You've been scouting and training with _Devona_." She stressed the well-known name lightly, showing her own respect for the Academy graduate.

Jerric tilted his head to one side. "Who did they apprentice you to then?"

Ayla laughed at the turn-around. "I was sent home, to the Abbey, to help. I suppose you could say I was apprenticed to Mhenlo," she added reflectively.

Jerric threw his head back and laughed, startling Kara into tumbling to one side with a soft cry.

"You're no plain monk then!" he accused, pointing at her and still laughing.

"Oh, shush!" Ayla cried, trying to help Kara up and failing as the young man's infectious laughter made both women collapse into a giggling, chuckling heap.

The three fell abruptly silent as the door to the Arena creaked open.

Armin Saberlin and Sir Tydus led the two teams out and to the still-untouched score chart. In the sudden silence, the scratch of charcoal on parchment was clearly audible.

So was Armin's announcement that team two had accomplished the first victory of the day.

* * *

A.N: Ok, it just occured to me that not everyone would understand time in finger-widths. Alright, the sun moves across the sky as the day passes, right? Well, the sun moves roughly one _finger-width_ across the sky every 15 minutes, so 12 finger-widths past noon is really roughly 3pm. Everyone got it? Good! (This actually works too, learned it while camping)

As always, I beg everyone to please review! I love all this nice feedback of course (who wouldn't?) but critical feedback is nice too! If anyone finds any problems with anything, don't just let it slide. Slap me with it!

And thanks to everyone who has reviewed and read this story so far. Cookies for all!


	7. Arena

Disclaimer: _I **do not** own the rights to Guild wars or its main plot and characters._

* * *

Throughout the next half hour, the three new friends watched as team four was defeated by team three and team six triumphed over five. 

Finally, the three heard the call they'd been waiting for.

"Team seven and eight, to the Arena."

Jerric led the way to the doors, where their soon-to-be opponents were waiting already; three men, seemingly two more warriors, and a somewhat smaller man, perhaps a spellcaster, whose luxuriant black hair looked as though he'd been styling it while he was waiting.

Smiling pleasantly, Jerric bowed to them.

"May the best team win." He said.

One of the big men, a dark skinned giant with a shaved head and a large hammer strapped to his back, scoffed haughtily.

"We plan to," his voice was rough and thick with contempt," _we_ didn't get stuck with a pair of _women_." With that he cast a look over Kara and Ayla, grinning lewdly.

Ayla straightened, hands curling to fists at her sides, but Jerric noticed the warning signs and put a hand out in front of her.

"You will apologize to both of these women soon." He warned, all hint of politeness gone from his features.

The smaller man flipped his hair back with a sharp shake of his head and let out a slight laugh at the unlikelihood, but Sir Tydus' appearance stayed any further comments.

"The rules are simple; the first team to incapacitate their opponents will win. Any attempt at a killing blow will result in instant disqualification of that person and expulsion from the Academy. Any questions?"

A tense silence greeted his explanation as the men of team seven attempted to stare down Jerric and he smiled grimly back.

"Alright then, Armin and I will be watching, as well as the priests of the Academy." Tydus finished, pulling the wide double doors open and ushering the team into the Arena.

The teams split, each going to their designated sides of the Arena to await the signal to begin.

Jerric slipped his axe out of its harness and shrugged his shield off his shoulders. Ayla stood watching him, arms folded across her chest with her staff across one shoulder. Kara clutched her wand nervously while her focus did jittery flips around her head.

"I want him."

Jerric and Kara turned to the monk in surprise.

"Who?" Jerric asked, hoping that his guess was wrong.

"That warrior, the one so full of himself." She replied, daring him to contradict her.

The big warrior ran his hands through his hair, making a mental note never to make this woman angry. "Can you take down a warrior yourself?" he asked, more to make sure she thought it through than from any doubt.

"Yes."

"Alright then, have at him." He glanced at Kara. "Do you think you can take the small guy then?"

The young elementalist hesitated, running her fingers up the small wand that wasn't her own, and then nodded sharply. "I- I can do it."

Jerric nodded encouragingly at her, then turned to look toward the far end of the Arena.

"I guess that leaves me with the other warrior." He said, flipping his axe over his hand in anticipation.

A crackle of lightning rushed suddenly across the field, signaling the beginning of the match!

Kara started to move forward, but stopped when the other two didn't budge.

Jerric nodded slightly. "Let them come to us."

Kara smiled and fell back a little behind the two and they waited.

Team seven complied with their wish perfectly.

The two enemy warriors rushed down the Arena, charging in wildly, the smaller man some distance behind.

Jerric set himself between the oncoming men and the girls, shield up defensively.

When the warriors reached him through, they split. A sword-bearing man attacked Jerric, clanging the sword forcefully on the upturned shield. The big man swore under his breath, hoping Ayla could take on the dark-skinned man, as he advanced on her with his hammer up. Then he had to duck as a fireball roared in for his head as the smaller man came into the fight.

Ayla watched the man as he came, not pausing in her defensive prayers. The idiotic brute was stalking her, grinning widely at the evidently easy knock out. To her left, Kara had run to engage the other elementalist, leaving the idiotic brute entirely to Ayla.

"Good." She whispered, finished with her prayers. Standing up to face the man, a look of pure terror widened her eyes and covered her face.

The brute grinned more widely, taking the bait without question. He lifted his hammer to one side, adding his forward momentum to a sweeping blow. Whooping wildly, he felt his hammer slam into the monk's belly, a direct hit-

Blue sparks shot out around the blow, revealing a slight blue shield about the monk even as the hammer bounced away, leaving a smirking Ayla, unharmed and still standing.

Taking advantage of his shock, Ayla dropped abruptly, touching her hands and staff to the ground and turning her back to him. Before the man could set up a decent defense, the young monk spun, slamming a heel upward and into his jaw. At the same time, her staff swept in for his knees, knocking them from beneath him.

"Take _that_, you sexist pig!" she cried as he toppled to the ground, dazed by the blow.

Hearing her exclamation, Jerric dared to take a quick glance over his shoulder. He found the glimpse of Ayla beginning another set of prayers with the dark skinned man unconscious at her feet quite reassuring.

Jerric looked back to his own fight just in time to parry another thrust, sweeping his opponent's blade out the side with his axe. He countered with a sweep of his own axe, but it was picked off quickly by the other man's shield.

Far from deterred, Jerric let his axe twist against the shield and scrape in toward the other man's sword arm.

Recognizing Jerric's intent, the warrior executed the counter all the warriors in the Academy had been taught, shield rushing Jerric into a clinch so his axe arm's angle was shortened sharply.

The man's sword was back up now. Coiling his shoulder in, he sent the blade forward, diving for Jerric's undefended chest.

But Jerric suddenly wasn't there.

Spinning sharply, Jerric deflected the sword high with his axe, and then continued the turn, using his opponent's shield as a fulcrum.

Twisting to the man's back, Jerric gave the unguarded chain mail a quick tap with his axe.

The man, aware of the small mercy, dropped his sword.

"I am defeated." He conceded, holding his empty sword hand up towards the Arena walls where the judges could see

Jerric looked around the field, checking on how his teammates had done. He hadn't seen much of Kara during the battle, but the young elementalist was standing a few yards away with the other elementalist. Jerric quickly started towards them, realizing that something wasn't completely right.

The small man was sitting angrily in the dirt, arms crossed and his back to Kara, ignoring her as she said something to him.

"Is he still fighting?" Ayla asked from his shoulder, startling him.

"I'm not sure." He shifted his axe across his palm, turning to look toward the judges of the match. Sir Tydus and Armin were coming towards them across the field. "I would guess not though." He added, nodding towards the soldiers.

"I'm so sorry! Really, I didn't mean to go so high and, oh! I'm so so sorry!" Kara was babbling, flapping her hands in distress. Above her head, her focus was spinning wild circuits, accenting her words.

Coming up to the two elementalists, Jerric realized the problem, even as Ayla bit back a sudden burst of laughter.

The man whose hair had been so thick and enviable, was now bald. Blackened crisps of stubble gave testament to what exactly had happened.

Kara turned to her new friends, actual tears brimming her eyes. "I-I didn't mean to!" she sobbed, wringing her hands in dismay.

Jerric had to pinch his lips together with his fingers, lest he burst a lung laughing at the bizarre scene.

Ayla, on the other hand, sobered quickly and dropped a comforting arm about the girl's shoulders.

"There, there. We believe you. It was an accident." By then, Armin and Tydus had reached the group, accompanied by the male elementalist's companions.

Tydus took one look at the scene and collapsed helplessly into silent laughter, clutching at Armin's arm for support.

Armin glared at Tydus, somehow finding no humor in the matter, then turned back to the group.

"It would seem that team eight is the winner of the match." He said gruffly. In response to his words, the newly hairless elementalist stood and turned a haughty glare on the entire congregation. Then, without a word or a backward glance, he stalked from the Area.

* * *

A.N.: Alright, I'm sorry this took so long, but partway through typing it I had to babysit a friend of the family's pet flying squirrel (SugarGlider really). Ok, this ties in, I swear. I had the little rat on a leash while I was watching tv, and that leash just _happened_ to reach to the table beside me. Before I knew it, the little rat had actually _eaten _an _entire_ page, front and back, of the fanfic. I have **no** idea how that little thing managed it, but I wanted to kill it. 

Also, I have a slight bone to pick with my readers, sorry. I've gotten six emails recently with people complaining about, of all things, my reviewers! Apparently, there are people who are reading this who have _never_ played guild wars and have no idea what the plot entails. Looking at my reviews, sure enough, some people are giving out _**spoilers**_. Please, if you have a question like "How will you do this?" or "What will they do here?" please _email_ it to me. I do check my email every day when I can, so you will get a quick answer.

Finally, one last little note. People have been asking in reviews if I'll do a story for Factions and Nightfall. My answer is that it's a possibility, but let's finish this one first. Ok?


	8. Pride

The next two matches were won by teams nine and twelve, which Ayla had mixed feelings about. She was glad Paulus was doing well, but that also meant there was a chance they could meet up in battle.

When the victory had been announced, Kara, who had also known Paulus' team number, looked at the monk worriedly, understanding her thoughts right away.

Ayla noticed the girl's gaze, and smiled reassuringly down at her.

"I'll be fine; we knew this was a possibility after all."

The young elementalist smiled meekly in return, glad that Ayla didn't seem to be worried. Jerric watched the exchange questioningly, but didn't say anything.

The next round began quickly after team twelve's victory, with only teams two, three, six, eight, nine and twelve left in the running.

The match between two and three was the first of the day to end badly. The Academy students knew something was wrong as soon as the great Arena doors slammed open and Armin Saberlin marched the two teams out.

For a moment, Ayla couldn't understand what was wrong. Then Kara gasped the answer.

"There are only five of them!"

Jerric and Ayla started, realizing that the dark-haired elementalist was right. The sixth member of the engagement was missing.

Jerric felt a cold shiver run up his spine at what that could mean.

Armin marched to the Academy stairs, three people breaking off from the group to follow him. The other two, a solidly built warrior woman with blonde hair and a lithe young woman with brown hair, possibly a ranger, stood near the doors, looking expectantly toward the Arena.

At the top of the stairs, Armin turned to the watching students. Only then did most of them notice that the man was nearly bright red with rage.

"Team three has been disqualified." He roared. "Carril Sornick will be expelled from the Academy and taken into custody for trial, never to join the Vanguard, nor the Ascalon Army."

A silence as sharp as a blade fell on the courtyard at the news, and the missing member of team two suddenly held a heavy weight of significance. All teams had heard the rules by now, and they could only think of one reason for such a dire punishment.

Behind Armin Saberlin, two of the members of team three had moved slightly apart from the third, apparently the named Carril Sornick, who stood, head bowed and silent.

"We will continue the Arena combat. There may be a short delay before our final match, but all will continue as _planned_." With that, the old veteran turned and, grabbing Carril by the arm, frog-marched the man from the courtyard and into the Academy.

Beside her, Ayla heard Jerric hiss softly in relief. Looking up at him, she followed his gaze to the Arena doors, where a young mesmer was leaning against Sir Tydus' supporting arm. She looked pale, but the Academy monks seemed to have taken care of any wounds she had sustained.

Ayla elbowed Kara lightly and pointed toward the mesmer, who was now being surrounded by her two team mates. The young elementalist brightened instantly, but her face darkened with worry again an instant later.

"Teams six and eight, report to the Arena!" Came Tydus' call and the three members of eight rushed quickly to the doors.

Team six was waiting at the door, most probably drawn over by the drama of Carril's expulsion. As before, Jerric bowed politely before them, almost as though the entire event had not happened.

"Good luck to you." He said with forced cheer, the only sign that the event had affected him.

A dark haired ranger replied, "To you as well," with a slight nod of his head and a smile that matched Jerric's. The other two members of six, a ranger with light hair and a chiseled face and another young mesmer woman with brown hair, nodded agreement.

Kara and Ayla grinned with nervous relief. This team was already a dozen times better than their first match, especially after the reality check from a moment before.

Tydus ran up to them then, having left the young mesmer woman with her team.

"Alright," he started, his voice somewhat strained," you all know the rules and the how-to's in this. If there are no questions…" He paused, scanning their faces quickly, "Good. If you will proceed to the Arena then, we will begin."

The two teams trotted through the gate and to opposite ends of the Arena. As soon as they reached their end, Ayla and Jerric began to plan for the coming fight, while Kara watched them uncertainly.

"Alright, so it looks like we're against two rangers and a mesmer, right?" Ayla started, look to Jerric and Kara for confirmation. Jerric nodded but Kara tilted her head curiously.

"How can you tell what profession they are just by looking?" she asked, confused.

Ayla and Jerric exchanged surprised glances, then Ayla smiled back at Kara.

"It's not too hard, once you get used to it. Rangers are the trackers of the vanguard. Usually if you see a person who seems strong, especially in the arms, but small in body, they'll be a ranger. Another good sign is if they use a bow or other long range weapon. Rangers tend to have a strong bond with natural things as well, so that's another clue."

Kara was nodding slightly as Jerric cut in.

"On the other hand, if you see someone like me, a giant who looks as if they could pick up an entire cow without worrying, but at the same time doesn't look as though they could think they're way out of a box, chances are they're a warrior."

Ayla rolled her eyes. "That is not true. Strong, yes. Dumb, no more than any other profession. Anyway. Mesmers are usually showmen and women. Almost to a one, they care more for their appearances than anyone else. Not because they're vain, but because their costumes and looks are part of their skills of deception and mental illusions."

"The most disturbing profession, in my opinion are the necromancers." The monk continued, sounding almost as though the speech had been rehearsed, which, seeing as Ashford Abbey was known as a well of information, it probably had been.

"Necromancers are death-casters. Their spells center around death and life. Draining your life force, diseases that sap your strength, even manipulation of corpses and dead souls at the expense of a small bit of their own life source. You'll usually know a necromancer simply by the chill they'll give you. Seeing as they have a foot in each world, living and dead, they normally seem more… " Ayla fished for a word. "Creepy? Than most people."

Jerric nodded his agreement, reinforcing Ayla's quick lessons in the young elementalist's mind.

"Alright, I know how to tell elementalists apart." Kara said, carefully tapping the small bauble twirling around her head. "We use focuses to concentrate our magic better. But what about monks?" She asked shyly.

Ayla smiled and pulled up the left sleeve of her thin linen tunic. Weaving around her arm in oddly hued purples and greens was a detailed tattoo of a tangled vine.

"Most monks have these tattoos, more of them depending on their skill. Different orders have different tattoos of course, and some temples even have certain hair styles to set them apart."

Jerric frowned slightly beside her. "I'd always wondered about those tattoos." He turned to Kara, who was still eyeing the confusing tangle on Ayla's skin. "Any questions?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with slight amusement.

Kara shook her head sharply. "N-no. Thank you for explaining it so well." She smiled at the two, glad to have such understanding teammates for all of this.

"Anyway." Jerric said, returning them to the confrontation at hand. "I think we'll be alright dealing with the rangers, it's the mesmer I'm worried about." The big warrior glanced up to where Tydus and Armin were apparently watching on the Arena ramparts.

Ayla bit her lips together contemplatively. "You're right, but I don't know how-

"I can take care of the mesmer." Kara spoke up suddenly. The two turned to her in surprise and she couldn't help blushing at her own boldness.

"I-I may not be able to tell them apart on sight, but Aziure showed me how to deal with mesmers." She explained, staring intently at her toes.

Jerric opened his mouth to say something, but his words were drowned out by an abrupt rumble of magical thunder.

Frowning slightly, he nodded and repeated, "Try your best," and all three were off.

The two teams met at the center of the Arena, beside the area's one small pond.

Team six spread out slightly, hoping to use their distance attacks to some advantage right off. The dark-haired ranger was the point, while the blonde ranger and the mesmer flared off to his left and right sides, respectively, with the mesmer closest to the pond.

Team eight mirrored the formation, Kara across from the mesmer while Jerric and Ayla paired the rangers, staying just out of their range.

Kara chewed her lips nervously, trying to remember every word of Aziure's lesson that day so long ago. _The secret to defeating a mesmer,_ the mountain elementalist had said, _is to beat them at their own game. Trick them before they have a chance to get into your mind._

Holding her hands at her sides and her feet firmly on the ground, Kara murmured something under her breath, lips barely moving.

To her left, Jerric watched the young elementalist out of the corner of his eye. He would let her make the first move as the mesmer could easily defeat any defense plan they tried.

A few moments of the clinch continued, neither side wanting to draw the other into combat.

Without any warning whatsoever, Kara charged the mesmer. Catching the movement, Jerric moved in on the rangers, before they could target the girl.

The mesmer lifted her wand, an ornately detailed work of art, and pointed it toward the running elementalist. Kara seemed oblivious to the threat as she darted in closer.

Jerric was giving the rangers something to worry about. He worked to keep both of them within his axe's range, making their long-distance bows nearly useless. Whenever one ranger managed to get his bow up and ready, he found himself targeting his companion as Jerric dodged to the other side. Evade and distract were the warrior's main tactics at the moment.

As Jerric was preoccupied, Ayla was the one who saw Kara's strategy put to work as her defensive prayers layered her companions.

The mesmer loosed a spell on Kara, a simple hex meant to slow the target by making them believe they were heavy and burdened.

Kara kept on coming, not even giving any indication of noticing the spell.

Then the mesmer began to worry. Her spells had always worked before, she refused to believe that this one had failed her.

Drawing up, she cast another spell towards the still-moving elementalist, meant to confuse and daze the attacker.

Still not even pausing, Kara lifted her hands high, starting a spell of her own. Understanding the imminent attack, the mesmer chose another method that had never failed her.

She turned, and ran.

Unfortunately for her, the woman had moved too close to the pond. Even as she started to run, a blast of freezing wind engulfed her legs, drawing water from the pond and wrapping it about her calves with magical fingers and freezing her feet to the ground.

Aware of her suddenly dire position, the mesmer wind milled her arms wildly in an attempt to keep her balance and cried out to her teammates for help.

Jerric heard the cry and saw the change in the rangers' attitude. Their main trump card, their mesmer and her illusions, had apparently failed.

Exhausted as he was, the big warrior felt a new surge of adrenaline. He couldn't let either of the two get to their friend. He had to keep them away from Kara!

One of the ranger whirled in with a feint, thrusting with a dagger-like arrow for Jerric's belly. An axe swept in and split the arrow in two. The second ranger, the one with light hair, took the distraction and made the expected break for their mesmer companion.

Jerric swore, turning to give chase, but a biting pain in his shoulder told him that that wasn't an option. The warrior returned grimly to his opponent, giving no sign that he had seen Ayla herself running to the elementalist's aid. Carefully looking over his shoulder at the arrow that was embedded in his skin, he decided that he could still fight.

Lifting his shield and ducking his head in behind, Jerric shield rushed back into the fray.

---

Kara saw the ranger coming, but couldn't interrupt her spell in time. Even as the man let fly an arrow, another blast of water and ice overtook the mesmer, encasing her further from foot-to-navel.

Now able to think about the arrow, Kara threw her hands out, closing her eyes as the arrow hit. Just when she expected for her arm or shoulder to be skewered she heard a soft _thunk_ and felt a slight pinch against her defending arm.

Carefully peeking out through her hands, Kara saw the offending arrow fall to the ground, having bounced harmlessly away from her skin.

Then Ayla was beside her, staff held defensively in front of them both and Kara realized what had happened, even without the monk's next words.

"Did I catch it in time?" she asked over her shoulder. In response, Kara waved the arm reassuringly.

"Yes, thank you." Kara murmured, lifting her own wand to the ready.

The fair-haired ranger, realizing the odds had just become two to one, slowed his pace and moved in more cautiously. He couldn't help but pause next to the frozen mesmer though.

"Amelia?" He gasped, staring at her iced legs.

"G-get m-m-me out of here!" The mesmer chattered. Kara bit her lips together apologetically.

Ayla tried not to laugh at this newest display of her new friend's power. "If she'll surrender, I'm sure Kara can get her out." She suggested, taking in Kara's affirming nod as she spoke.

Amelia couldn't agree fast enough.

"Kara, you thaw her out and I'll take care of her companion." Ayla continued, nodding to the ranger and twirling her staff in her hands defensively.

Kara, accepting Ayla's proposal instantly, turned to help Amelia.

The blonde-ranger raised his eyebrows at the two. "You will?" he queried, "but you're a monk, no offense meant."

The words were barely out of his mouth before Ayla was beside him, dropping to one knee as she swept her staff toward his ankles. The man barely managed to hop the unexpected attack, juggling his bow as he backed away.

Ayla rose, flashing a grin as she moved forward, pacing him.

"None taken."

---

Jerric and the dark-haired ranger had settled into a frustrating game of cat and mouse. Every time Jerric thought he'd gotten his axe close enough to a blow to call the ranger's surrender, he would realize an instant later that the ranger had dodged the intended attack by a hair's breadth.

As the dark-haired ranger bobbed and weaved just out of harm's reach, Jerric forced himself to stay calm and not waste too much energy on feeble attacks and feints, as that was most likely the ranger's strategy. A tired opponent made mistakes.

Playing on that idea, Jerric let his shoulders stoop and his arms slow with apparent weariness. Stepping toward his opponent to prepare another attack, he felt himself stumble suddenly as he overextended with his axe. The young warrior's arm flew out, helplessly wide as his ankle twisted beneath him, tumbling him to one knee.

The ranger recognized the feint for what it was, but couldn't possibly let such an opportunity go. Wading within Jerric's guard he sent his dagger-arrow diving in toward the man's chest.

Unfortunately for him, Jerric had dropped his axe as he 'fell' and his now-empty hand snaked in to grab the smaller man's wrist. Realizing his mistake too late, the ranger found himself face-down on the ground, pinned by Jerric's greater weight and with his arm twisted behind his back.

"Oh, very nice." The ranger flinched. "All right, I surrender, let me up you brute." When Jerric made no move for a moment, he added quickly, "Please?"

Releasing his opponent, Jerric grabbed his axe and, saluting to the sitting ranger, charged off to aid his teammates.

---

The remaining ranger found himself outmatched, faced not only with Ayla's surprising martial arts, but the ever-present threat of Kara's magical attacks. The young elementalist was still thawing his mesmer companion, but he couldn't count the girl out of the fight.

Then, as he barely managed to deflect another whirling staff attack, the blonde ranger saw Jerric running towards them. The implications of the warrior's arrival hit him at about the same instant that Ayla's staff connected with his chin.

And so, when Jerric reached his team he found an unconscious ranger, a mostly thawed mesmer, and two young women who were very pleased with themselves.

The same scene greeted Armin and Tydus as the two men escorted the dark-haired ranger and an academy priest to the spot.

As the academy priest moved directly to the stunned ranger, Ayla appeared at Jerric's side.

"Here, let me see that shoulder." Jerric started and glanced down at the offending wound. He'd completely forgotten about the arrow in the adrenaline rush, but he could certainly feel it now.

"Oh, uhm, all right." Yes, he could certainly feel it, and it _hurt._

Ayla peeled back the blood-covered sleeve and wrinkled her nose. "Isn't all this smelly steel you warriors wear supposed to protect you from little things like these?"

Jerric chuckled at her exasperation, despite the now throbbing pain. "Well, sometimes it misses a spot."

"I can hardly reach, you're too tall." She accused, as though he hadn't spoken. She peered up at the few inches of arrow still protruding from his skin. "Hold your breath." She ordered.

"What do you me- AH!" The big warrior jerked a hand up to cover the wound impulsively as sharp pain ripped through his arm. Slightly amused, Ayla tapped the newly liberated arrow against his protecting wrist.

"Let go so I can heal it." She demanded, prying his hand away.

"Sorry," he mumbled, grimacing at the sudden pain, "reflex." He explained.

A bit apart from the two, Kara watched their easy banter with unaccustomed longing. She was grateful to Aziure for all-but adopting her after her parents had died in the Guild Wars, but there weren't many people to talk to on a mountain top.

"Do you need a healer here?" queried a voice behind her, jerking the young elementalist from her brooding thoughts.

"Oh, no. I didn't get hurt." She replied, "but…" she trailed off, looking over at the fully thawed mesmer.

Amelia caught the glance and smiled wryly. "I'm all right, just a little pride-sore." Then she frowned and turned to stare intently at Kara.

"I must say, though, that I'm curious. Before, my spells didn't seem to affect you at all. How in Tyria did you do that?"

Tydus looked at Kara too. "Is that what happened? We couldn't tell from the walls."

The young elementalist blushed, unused to this sort of attention, and her focus echoed her thoughs, ducking shyly into her thick black hair. Dropping her eyes to her feet, she didn't notice Ayla and Jerric walking up behind her.

"A-Aziure taught it to me." She mumbled, staring at her wiggling toes self-consciously. "It's actually a monk skill though. You have to work really hard to concentrate on absolutely nothing for it to work."

Behind the girl, Ayla was nodding, adding credance to the story. "I've heard that it's used by monks in the mountains, but I've never learned it myself."

Amelia smiled widely. "All right, so the best counter is to break your concentration somehow? I'll work on that from now on." The mesmer dropped abruptly into an elegant curtsy, startling Kara. "Beautiful skill, elementalist."

Kara began to gibber modestly, not noticing the approving gazes her teammates were giving her. They hadn't expected such tactics from someone so shy and demure.

And in the back of Kara's own mind, a small voice piped up, proud of her sudden improvements and glad she hadn't let down her two new-found friends.

* * *

A.N: Phew, finally. Sorry it took so long, my computer was such a piece of junk I bought a new one and spent a lot of time transfering files and such. Updates should come a lot sooner now though, because my computer won't crash when I open the internet. Yaaayyy.

As always, feel free to review! And if you have any question/suggestions, I check my email almost every day. I'm pretty sure it's in my profile somewhere.


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